Blue Eyes
by Snarky Badger
Summary: At the end, all you can think about is those blue eyes.


_._

 _._

 _._

 _Shepard._

Pain.

You woke up to darkness, ashes on your tongue and a crushing pressure on your chest. Something shifted above you, dust and grime trickling onto your face.

Struggling sent agony through your body, thoughts sluggish, confused. Your body was broken, shattered, any attempts at movement sending waves of stomach churning agony across every nerve.

It took a long, frightening, moment for your mind to restart.

The crucible. The choice.

A pained groan left you as your mind cleared. You'd destroyed the Reapers, won the war. But it wasn't that thought that you latched onto. No. It was blue eyes. Blue eyes and a voice, wracked with pain and fear and desperation, his sub vocals nearly keening with grief as you'd told him that you loved him before running to your death.

 _Shepard._

It was the memory of that voice that made you struggle for breath, once again grateful for the cybernetics that Cerberus had woven into your bones and flesh. You were certain that they were the only things keeping you alive. You'd watched as the Crucible overloaded, each shot from your weapon causing more and more damage.

Really, what choice had it given you? All your efforts, all the fights, the losses, the pain, had been leading you to that one moment, that choice. You knew in your bones that the Reapers couldn't be allowed to continue, no matter the cost. The death toll they'd created was in the millions, billions. It would have been the ultimate insult to all those lost lives.

But regret still wormed it's way into your fragile heart. Regret that you'd left behind the one person who'd loved you for _you_. Sure, at one point, when you'd first met him, you'd never thought that you'd fall in love with a cocky Turian sniper. But now, looking back, how could you not? He'd evolved through the years, growing into the person that you loved, beyond all else. A little broken, a little dorky, but so, so perfect. You knew he would have died at your side, without regret or hesitation, and a part of you was glad that he hadn't been with you till the end.

 _Shepard_.

Your heart skipped a beat as you thought about those blue eyes, and not in the good way. Your breathing was getting shallower, your pulse slowing. Your cybernetics made you strong, made you resilient, but even they couldn't stop the ever nearing grip of death.

There was no way that anyone would find you. Hell, you didn't even know how long you'd been unconscious. Hours? Days? Your augmented body might have even made it as long as a week. But you'd been in the heart of the explosion, in the heart of the Crucible. There were thousands that needed help that would be found before anyone even thought about looking for you.

And, in a way, death seemed more like a release than a punishment. You were _tired_. So _tired_ of fighting, of being in command. Honestly, after dealing with the Council's continuous stupidity, and of beating your self against tide after tide of battles, you were looking forward to some god damned rest.

 _Shepard_.

A cough wracked your form, the spasm making the rubble atop you shift, and yeah, your ribs were broken. The new pressure made something deep inside you snap, and suddenly, it was so, so much harder to breath, like a fist had wormed it's way into your chest and was squeezing, so _tight_.

Your mind drifted, back to those blue eyes. They'd been so afraid the night before the Omega Relay. You knew you loved him long before that night, and after that night - a night of inter-species awkwardness interspersed with laughter and understanding and pleasure - you knew that you wouldn't ever be whole again without him by your side.

The time apart, when you'd been incarcerated, had been hard. Messages, snuck through tight security, had let you know that he was still alive, still fighting, still loving you. The reunion, of seeing those blue eyes again after so _long_. You'd missed his voice, his eyes, his kiss - different from a human's but so, so _him_ \- you'd almost wanted to crawl into him and never leave.

 _Shepard_.

A groan left your lips as your breaths turned shallow, heartbeat struggling. His voice kept echoing in your mind, that flang in his voice that usually brought butterflies to your stomach now making something in you twist.

You'd left him alone. You'd promised not to, but that had been a lie. You'd both known that it was a suicide mission, and now, in your final moments, you worried, you feared, what would happen to him without you.

He'd called you his mate, his _bonded_. You knew, from him and from the research you'd done into Turian relationships, that he'd tied himself to you, permanently. Had feared, as you'd turned you back and run into the fire, what would happen to him.

 _Shepard_.

You'd been a coward. You hadn't said the words until the last possible moment. You'd known, oh, you'd known, that he loved you. His sub vocals had sung it to you every night, every time he held you or kissed you. That thrum, low, rumbling, the sound that meant that you were _safe_ because there was no way in hell that he'd let anything harm you as long as you were in his arms.

He let you be _yourself_. Not a Commander, not a Spectre, just _Jane_. And you _clung_ to that, because you knew that he only let himself be _himself_ , truly and wholly, around you. You shared your fears, your dreams; retiring to the tropics, spending days on a beach, just the two of you, nothing and no one demanding anything of either of you.

In the dark, under the rubble, you let tears fall, wishing now, that you'd told him that you loved him before the end. That you could go back and say it the night before the Relay, the time where you had been reunited, the day shooting bottles atop the Citadel. That you could tell him every damn time humanly possible that you loved him with everything you were.

 _Shepard_.

You sniffled, dust invading your nose. The cough that left you made something wet move in your chest, tightening the band around your heart and lungs.

God, you hoped that he wouldn't be waiting at that bar.

Darkness that had nothing to do with the rubble encasing you started to encroach on your vision. You didn't think it possible for anything to be darker than what was basically your tomb, but the pitch black spreading across your mind was so, so, much darker.

Distantly, as you listened to your heart slow, skipping a beat that had nothing to do with emotions and everything to do with your looming death, you heart something shift.

" _Shepard!_ "

 _Impossible_.

Even as your body began to shut down, you tried to move, tried to yell. But your lungs couldn't expand, diaphragm too bruised to help you take the needed breath, and your body was broken, so broken that the signal that your brain sent to it - _get up, move!_ \- only resulted in a weak spasm. All that left you was a whine of pain, of desperation.

Bones grated in your arm and fingers as you fisted your hand, making the slight, precise, movement needed to activate your Omni Tool. Flickering orange light seared your eyes as it illuminated your tomb, but even it didn't chase away the darkness at the edge of your vision.

Your breath stuttered, eyes going sightlessly wide, tears gathering at the corners, even at the voice - _voices_ \- came nearer. Yells of 'over here', 'I see something' and a so familiar ' _Shepard!_ ' breaking what was left of your emotional heart.

Something shifted above you, a piece of bulkhead groaning, pressing hard on broken ribs before someone - _no you knew who it was_ \- hefted it up and off.

Blue eyes. Oh, God, those blue eyes.

Your final breath left you in a wonder-filled rasp. He was _alive_. "... _Garrus_."

.

.

.


End file.
